


Not Today (Not Ever)

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Series: Taking What Comes [9]
Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Blood, M/M, Violence, vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 03:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8041498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: Rhys gets badly hurt. Jack doesn't take it well.





	Not Today (Not Ever)

**Author's Note:**

> This one's for [TheTheSpaceCoyote](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) who asked what would happen if Rhys ever got seriously hurt. This is what I came up with.

It’s a clear and crisp night after the Dahl negotiations when Jack decides that he’d rather walk than take the car back to the townhouse. It’s not far, so Jack dismisses most of his entourage and he and Rhys stroll down the deserted streets as Wilhelm tails them half a block behind.

Jack’s feeling expansive, so he’s telling Rhys some bullshit story as they walk, hands gesturing and eyes fixed on the stars – you don’t see them so clearly very often in the city, and Jack enjoys it. Rhys slows a half step to look at a window display but Jack carries on – Rhys will catch up, never willing to be very far from Jack’s side. Jack delivers the punch line and turns to see Rhys’ reaction and-

The sidewalk behind him is empty.

He sees Wilhelm, now a block away, breaking into a run. Jack hears a scuffle in the alley they just passed, and as he rounds the corner he curses himself for being ten kinds of stupid and not just taking the goddamn car.

Rhys’ feet kick uselessly in the air as a burly man even taller than Rhys is holds the kid off the ground. One arm wraps around the kid’s side, pinning his arm, and one huge hand covers most of his face. Rhys looks furious but Jack can see with crystal clarity the way his eyes widen in surprise as the knife slides into his side.

The fight drains out of Rhys abruptly as the assailant drops him to the ground. The kid collapses to the dirty cobblestones, limp and boneless, and it feels like Jack’s stomach drops with him.

It’s been a long time since Jack’s been in a back alley brawl but that’s not the kind of thing you forget, and he’s never been shy about getting his hands dirty. If Rhys weren’t lying in a growing pool of his own blood Jack would be tempted to make this last; as it is he gets a vindictive satisfaction out of  kicking the man’s kneecap out and following him down with a heavy elbow to the gut. While the man who thought he could touch what belongs to Handsome Jack is lying wheezing on the ground, Jack grabs the knife – still red with Rhys’ blood – from unresisting fingers.

The arterial spray is warm against his face, but Jack doesn’t stay to watch the man gurgle his last breath, turning to see Wilhelm shifting Rhys over onto his side.

The kid doesn’t look good. He’s pale to begin with; now he’s paler, and although he’s got his hand pressed to his side red is seeping through his fingers. Jack drops to his knees, heedless of what the dirt and the blood are doing to his trousers, and snaps at Wilhelm to _go get the fucking car_. Wilhelm doesn’t need to be told twice – he’s already out on the street as Jack shrugs off his jacket and presses it ungently to Rhys’ side. The kid makes a hurt little noise, the first he’s made since he was grabbed.

“ _Don’t_ ,” Jack snarls as Rhys’ eyelids flutter, and the kid struggles to obey, blinking his eyes open. It feels like an eternity before Jack hears tires screeching out on the street. Jack presses Rhys’ hand to the makeshift compress and scoops the kid into his arms.

The ride to the hospital is excruciating. Wilhelm’s driving fast, but Rhys is dead weight in Jack’s arms, and if the kid doesn’t make it through this -

Jack kicks open the doors and dumps Rhys on the first clear gurney he sees. A frowning orderly scurries over, mouth open presumably to scold Jack but his voice dies and his eyes widen when he catches sight of Jack’s face.

Jack snags the orderly by the collar and draws him in close. “I need your best doctor, and I need them now. Get them out of bed, pull them out of a whorehouse – I don’t give a fuck, just _get them here._ If this kid doesn’t make it through the night neither do you, you get me?”

“I – y-yes, yes sir, I hear you loud and clear sir,” the orderly stutters. “Dr. Sawyer is upstairs, I’ll get her right away, sir.”

“You do that.” Jack releases the orderly’s collar and the man scuttles away. Jack grins maniacally at a group of nurses clustered around the intake counter and one of them flinches back, but Jack’s already turning to put his hand on Rhys’ forehead.

The kid’s skin is clammy and his eyes are closed, but he’s still breathing. If he doesn’t stay that way –

Jack had once thought that he would burn the city down for Rhys. As Rhys’ head lolls to the side Jack finds himself calculating how much gasoline he can get his hands on on short notice.

To her credit, Dr. Sawyer doesn’t ask stupid questions like “how did this happen.” Although she presses her lips together when she lifts Jack’s bloodstained jacket away from Rhys’ side, she starts barking out orders immediately and soon Rhys is being wheeled away. Jack moves to follow but Dr. Sawyer stops him.

“Staff only in the operating room,” she says while Jack is blinking down at where her hand is resting on his chest.

“Do you -“ Jack starts, but she doesn’t let him finish.

“I know exactly who you are.” Her eyes flick up and Jack knows she’s looking at the scar, but her gaze drops after a second and she looks him square in the eye. “Do you want him to live? Then let us do our job. Staff only,” she repeats, then turns her back on him and walks away while Jack is still processing the audacity.

Wilhelm comes up behind Jack and murmurs, “You want in there?”

Jack is silent for a minute, watching the doors swing shut behind Dr. Sawyer. “No,” he says finally. “No, we’ll let them do their jobs.”

Jack turns away from the doors Rhys disappeared though and rubs a hand over his face. It comes away red; he’d forgotten the blood was there. Jack smiles grimly at the thought of what he must look like.

“Stay here. Keep an eye on things,” he tells Wilhelm, “but don’t get in their way. I’ll be back soon.”

Wilhelm folds his arms and grunts, but he doesn’t try to stop Jack as Jack pushes the outside doors open and strides back out into the night. Rhys may be out of his hands for the moment, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing Jack can do.

The man in the alley had had a Dahl tattoo on his neck. Apparently negotiations hadn’t gone that well after all.

When Jack strolls back into the hospital in the early morning, he finds Wilhelm sitting outside a private room, legs crossed and drumming his fingers on his knee. Wilhelm’s fingers still as Jack approaches, and he stands as Jack reaches the door.

“He’s inside.” Wilhelm rolls his neck until it pops. “Doc said it went well.” He looks Jack up and down and appears to be satisfied with what he sees.

“Excellent. I’d hate to have to murder the staff here – leaves a bad impression.” Jack rests his hand on the doorknob but doesn’t open it quite yet. “Why don’t you head home, get some rest.”

Wilhelm shakes his head and sits back down. “I’ll stay.”

Jack shrugs, although he’s warmed by the gesture. “Suit yourself.”

Rhys still looks deathly pale when Jack pushes the door open, but he’s breathing and as Jack watches he blinks his eyes open and focuses blearily on Jack. Rhys smiles dopily – they must have given him the good drugs – and Jack lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Jack makes his way over to Rhys beside and leans in, putting his face close to Rhys’ neck and breathing deeply. Rhys’ familiar scent fills his lungs as Rhys tips his neck to the side to give Jack better access, and Jack feels something inside him settle, some snarling, clawing thing subsiding.

“How are you feeling?” Jack murmurs quietly.

Rhys giggles faintly, and turns his face into Jack’s hair. “Floaty.” He nuzzles Jack’s head. “You smell - different.”

Definitely the good stuff. “It’s temporary,” Jack says as he pulls back.

Jack smells of smoke, of gasoline, and of flame. He can feel it coating his skin, but getting clean will have to wait. Instead he moves away from Rhys toward the window, ignoring the kid’s pout, and looks over the orange glow in the distance.

The sun is coming up over the city, but it’s coming in _behind_ Jack. The early dawn sends feelers over the city as Jack looks west, listening to the sirens blare and scenting ash on the wind.

It’s not subtle, but it gets the point across.                                                                                         

Jack turns away from the window and takes a chair near Rhys’ bed. Tomorrow he’ll start making plans to take care of what’s left of Dahl; for now he’s going to sit here and let Rhys’ scent fill his lungs and think about vengeance, and fear, and devotion.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [ThirtySixSaveFiles](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


End file.
